


Desvelado

by Arrowlion



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: F/F, Fluff, aramour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25257091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrowlion/pseuds/Arrowlion
Summary: Jane decides to learn Spanish for her girlfriend, but is insecure about whether or not she can do it.
Relationships: Catherine of Aragon/Jane Seymour
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57





	Desvelado

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the Spanish in this fic will be translated/evident in context, anything that’s not isn’t essential. Hope you enjoy!

“Casa.”

“House.”

Lina nodded. Jane scribbled the words down onto the flashcard and grabbed a new one.

“Taza,” Lina tried.

“Cup,” Jane answered after a pause. She again marked the letters onto the card, slowly and clearly. Lina reached out and took her wrist.

“Hold on. That’s with a ‘z,’ not ‘s.’”

“But-“

“I know. They sound the same, but they’re spelled differently. Like in English, how ‘c’ and ‘s’ can sound the same.”

Jane sighed. “And what sound is that? I’ve heard it as the ‘s’ sound but also ‘th’.”

“The ‘th’ sound is a Castilian accent, which is why I say it that way. Most other Spanish-speaking countries will use the ‘s’ sound.” When Jane frowned, Lina countered with an encouraging smile.

“I know it’s confusing, mi cielo. One step at a time.”

“It’s just. . . hard, matching the sounds to the letters, and it changes. . .” Jane trailed off. She shouldn’t be petulant about it, not when Lina was stealing time out of her day for these lessons. It was selfish, raising petty complaints to excuse her own mistakes.

“I know,” Lina assured her. “Believe me, that’s how I felt learning English. New languages take practice and time.”

She was just being kind. Jane knew that Lina had a knack for languages; she always had. Spanish flowed off her tongue like music, her English was impeccable. Latin, Greek, French, not a single one of them proved too great a challenge for Catalina de Aragón. It was enough to make Jane wonder how she’d been lucky enough to end up with someone as brilliant as her girlfriend. 

At the same time, she felt distress at her own incompetence. Despite weeks of lessons and practice, she could never go more than three flashcards without forgetting a translation or spelling a word wrong. Even if she was correct, she was always second-guessing her answers, never certain of what she knew. 

Seeming to sense Jane’s vexation, Lina squeezed her hand. “Come on, let’s finish the set. You can do this.” When Jane managed to nod, she handed Jane a blank card and continued with brisk determination. 

“Boca.”

“. . .mouth, right? Or-“

“No, that’s it. You got it. How about ‘foca’?”

“It was an animal. . . er, otter?”

“Not quite.”

“Seal?”

“Good. . . ‘f,’ not ‘v.’”

Listening, translating, writing, correcting. On they went, the hours ticking by, punctuated only by sporadic outbursts of despair on Jane’s part. Lina’s patience, like everything else about her, was a gift from God.

*

The digital clock resting on the bedside table glowed 11:24 in brilliant scarlet. It wasn’t sufficient to read by, but Jane feared that the light of the lamp would wake Lina, sleeping in the bed to her left, so she used the flashlight of her cell phone under the covers. She went through the flashcards two by two, studying each minimal pair together, memorizing the minute differences in spelling and cadence. 

Peso, beso.

Carro, tarro. 

Loro, toro.

The rhymes made it easier. She could hear Lina’s voice when she read them, drilling the rhythm of the syllables into Jane’s head. It was the reading that proved more challenging. The letters on the cards blurred and drifted when she tried to focus on them, in spite of the painstaking care she’d taken to write them neatly. Each set of cards took several minutes to decipher, slowing her progress immensely. 

Eventually she set them aside, discouraged, and flung the covers off. If she couldn’t learn to properly read Spanish, she would at least learn to speak it. Whatever it took. Lina had been delighted when she’d asked to start learning. Jane was determined to see it through, to do this for the woman she loved. 

Not only that, but she had to prove it to herself, too. It shouldn’t be this hard; it wasn’t for everyone else. Her own Edward, so young, had spoken five languages, or so the books said. . . Would he be ashamed to see how much his mother struggled? The thought gutted her. 

With her head spinning slightly, Jane slid quietly out of the bed and slipped out the door. She tread downstairs, silent as a housecat, and perched on an armchair in the living room, not daring to relax in case the wood creaked. Ignoring the exhaustion that tugged at her eyelids, she began to practice.

“Te quiero,” she tried in a whisper. 

I love you. 

That one she knew by heart. The first phrase Lina had taught her, one that she had practiced every night since. She would never tire of saying it, feeling the sounds roll of her tongue.

But it wasn’t enough. She didn’t want to repeat one phrase like a trained parrot; she wanted to have the whole language at her command.

“Por favor, pase. . .”

Not right. The syllables were too thick, rounded by her English accent. She tried it again, then a third time, trying to picture the letters in her head and the sounds that they made. They swam around in her mind’s eyes, fuzzy and indistinct. She pushed her fingers against her temples. 

It went no better when she moved beyond memorized phrases and attempted to construct sentences of her own.

“Yo. . . beber. . . bebe. . .”

Think of the letters, the sounds, the charts with the yellow and pink highlighters that Lina had made for her.

“Vosotros están. . . no, that’s not. . . right. . .”

Again and again. Her throat went dry from repetition, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Not until she could do it right. She should be better. . . 

“Buenas días. . . buenos? Buenos díos. . .”

“Jane?”

She looked up to see Lina standing on the stairs, her brow furrowed as she took in the scene.

“I. . . couldn’t sleep,” Jane lied, stifling a yawn.

Lina, of course, was right through her. “You look exhausted, cariña.” She walked down and once again took Jane’s hand in hers. “What’s the problem?”

Jane gave in. “I’m practicing my Spanish. I feel like I’ve hardly improved since we started.”

“That’s not true,” Lina countered. “You’ve gotten much better. I’ve seen it. You don’t forget words nearly as often.”

“But I still can’t write it, or speak it.”

“I told you, it takes time. We’ll keep practicing.” She leaned closer, lifting her hand to touch Jane’s cheek. “Why the rush? I assure you, mi vida, I’m not going anywhere.”

The reassurance was enough to prompt a smile from Jane, but it flickered out like a candle as her despondency returned. “I wanted to learn for you,” she whispered. “So I could tell you how beautiful you are in your own language, and so you wouldn’t have to use English with me all the time. So you and I could have that between us. But I can’t do it. I’m hopeless.”

Lina’s face, illuminated by the golden light of the lamp, contorted briefly. “You’re wrong.”

“Lina-“

“No. I mean it. You’re not hopeless. Never think that. The fact that you would even choose to do this, for me, even with how difficult it is-“ Lina’s voice faltered, breaking her fierce composure. 

This time it was Jane who moved closer, pulling Lina into a tight embrace. They held each other for several minutes, exhausted, overwhelmed, neither speaking. Finally Lina drew back.

“Listen to me,” she ordered in a shaky but determined voice. “You can do this. You can. I know it’s not easy, but you are one hundred percent capable. I believe in you. And. . . you have no idea. . . how grateful I am that you’re willing to learn. It means everything.”

Not trusting her ability to respond coherently, Jane just smiled and nodded.

“But for now,” continued Lina, “you need rest. Come on.”

In a somnambulant stupor, Jane let Lina guide her up the steps and back into their bed. As she settled under the covers, she felt her girlfriend curl against her, stroking her hair softly.

“Duerme, mi amor,” she whispered, and Jane drifted off to the sound of her singing softly, too quiet to even discern which language she spoke.

*

“Gato.”

“Cat.”

“Plato.”

“Dish.”

“Zapato.”

“Shoe.”

“Barato.” 

“Cheap.”

So many words, one after the other. To Jane’s astonishment, she knew every one. Not only that, even as her hands flew to keep up with her mouth, Lina only rarely had to correct her spelling.

Of course, she’d been practicing for months now. Not just the flashcards, but also speaking in fragments to Lina and listening to Spanish radio stations in the hopes of picking out a few phrases. She’d even roped Lina into watching a Spanish soap opera that she’d found while channel surfing (Lina called the series “ridículo” and “estúpido,” but Jane wasn’t fooled. They watched it religiously every Saturday night. In fact, Lina was invested enough to insist that Anne be expelled from the room on these occasions in order to minimize distractions.)

Still, she hadn’t been sure any of it would really work. There was always the uncertainty nestled in the back of her mind, reminding her how much she had struggled even to learn English. And it was true that reading was still a challenge, she was getting better at it. (The process was slow, and if she was honest, Cervantes was still quite a ways above her level, but it was still progress.)

“Hermoso?” Lina asked, and Jane, startling back to the present, realized that she was saying it for the second time. 

“Oh! Beautiful,” she answered confidently. “As in, ‘tienes ojos hermosos.’”

Lina smiled, those stunning dark brown eyes sparkling like jewels. 

“Muy bien,” she agreed, setting the completed flashcard deck aside on the kitchen table. “I think you’re ready.”

“Ready?” Jane narrowed her eyes. There was an edge of excitement to Lina’s voice, and her smile was knowing. What had she been hiding? “Ready for what?”

“Well, seeing as you’ve gotten so good, and you can understand me so well, I thought we could. . . adjust our location settings. To Spain, that is. You and I.”

Jane blinked. “We’re going to Spain?”

“I’ve booked two flights already, and checked it with the show staff and the others. I thought I could take you to Madrid, and Aragon, and Catalonia, and I’ve found some nice places to stay, and-“

She was cut off as Jane threw her arms around her and kissed her, leaving them both breathless by the time they finally broke apart. 

“Te quiero,” Jane gasped out.

“Lo sé.”

“What do you mean, ‘I know?!’”

“Only testing you,” laughed Lina. “Yo también te quiero, mi corazón. Y estoy muy orgullosa de ti.” 

I love you too, I’m proud of you. Not long ago she wouldn’t have been able to understand any of it. Jane felt a flicker of pride in herself. 

She leaned in for another kiss, only to pull away when an audible grumble came from Anne, who rolled her eyes as she strode into the kitchen. Whatever she said was in French, too fast for Jane to catch the words, but Lina was already retorting at a mile a minute anyway. As Jane intervened to restore law and order, she wondered idly if, once she became fluent in Spanish, she should brush up on her French. 

Whether she decided to do it or not, there was, for the first time, confidence that she could.


End file.
